Clarity
by sosmitten
Summary: Post ep for 7.07. Lorelai gets a clue.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters. I just repair the damage done by those who do. 

**Author's Note:** This story has been a long time in the writing, gradually morphing itself into a post-7.07 story. I have to thank my marvelous betas: **CineFille**, **iheartbridges**, and **Lula Bo** for reading this (multiple times!)

* * *

Her brain is buzzing.

It's not a completely new sensation. There's been a dissonant hum in her head for months now. Tonight, though, it's a full-out vibration that she can feel down into her eardrums. It grows stronger with every one of Shira Huntzberger's backhanded compliments and each time Mitzie Hogan insists that she and Christopher are 'perfect for each other.'

Lorelai can't really figure out why they're here, why she's here. It's been such a whirlwind since she and Christopher returned from Paris, and she's just let herself get caught up in it. But between the impromptu congratulatory party her mother had thrown together within a day of their return and the stuffy formal dinner that had followed the next day at Christopher's mother's house, she's had her fill of events, and had been looking forward to a night curled on the couch with Paul Anka nearby.

Somehow though, they've ended up here tonight, at the home of her parents' friends, so that Lorelai can meet some of the parents of Gigi's preschool classmates and Christopher can schmooze with the headmaster of the exclusive school he's hoping to get Gigi into. He had argued that they should put in an appearance to make sure that Gigi doesn't get forgotten while she is in Paris, and Lorelai had found it difficult to make a case against that logic.

Lorelai's already done her share of meeting and greeting when Emily absconds with her to pin down a time to plan a Hartford wedding. The truth is, Lorelai has hardly had a chance to process what it means that they are married. She had tried to take the congratulatory words from Rory and Sookie at face value, tried to ignore the shock in Sookie's expression and the hurt in Rory's eyes. She'd been baffled and strangely comforted by her mother's resolute decision to treat the elopement as an engagement, insisting that they need a 'proper' wedding to make it official.

She endures the standard wardrobe criticism from her mother, Emily's hands gesturing as she talks, "Lorelai, you can't continue to show up at these functions in _these_ dresses with _those_ flimsy sweaters. We really do need to get you some appropriate clothing." She's only just extricated herself from that conversation, after making plans for lunch later in the week, when two of her mother's DAR friends descend upon her to admire her ring.

As she holds out her hand to them, she looks down at the ostentatious engagement diamond. She feels a sharp ache of pain as she thinks about another ring much more suited to her tastes, but the comparison brings on pangs of guilt such that when the women begin gushing over the size of the diamond she nods and smiles in agreement.

She sees them notice the ring on her other hand, the wedding band with diamonds all around its circumference, and wonders if she should explain, should whisper conspiratorially that Emily had suggested that Lorelai wear it on her right hand until the 'official' ceremony. She doesn't, because she still hasn't made sense of the reasons herself. She still hasn't figured out why, to her mother's genuine surprise, she'd taken Emily's advice and separated the wedding ring from its mate, at least temporarily

In the midst of all the 'oohing' and 'aahing' Francine Hayden walks up saying, "Christopher does have such wonderful taste in jewelry, doesn't he?" The women agree and after a few more comments about Christopher's excellent choice, they drift away and Francine takes hold of Lorelai's wrist, leading her off to the side of the room. "Lorelai dear, I have something I need to talk to you about."

"Sure, okay," she says haltingly. She's still not used to Christopher's mother treating her with what approaches acceptance. To be sure, Francine had always just followed Straub's lead rather than appearing to have any thoughts of her own, but the sudden graciousness feels strange.

"Very well, " Francine says officiously, "I've made some appointments for you and Christopher to view some properties tomorrow."

Lorelai feels sharp points of pain pricking behind her eyes. "Properties?" she asks blankly.

Giving her a bland smile, Francine answers, "You and Christopher will need a bigger place, dear. I told him I'd set up some appointments."

"You told him…?" Lorelai stammers. Seeing the look of appalled confusion on Francine's face, she recovers and adds, "We don't…we haven't made any plans to move."

The older woman smiles pleasantly. "Oh, I know that you've been terribly busy. That's why Christopher let me go ahead and make the appointments for you."

"I'm just not sure we're planning to move," she says weakly.

"Of course you'll need to move," Francine corrects gently, but firmly. "His condominium is fine for a single man, even with Gigi, but you're going to need a bigger place now that you're a family. Why there's no room for entertaining."

"Entertaining…" Lorelai gulps. "Well…uh…Christopher and I obviously have some talking to do." She glances around the room looking for her…husband.

"You let me know, dear. I know Christopher is looking forward to being settled. Which reminds me," she continues, "Christopher mentioned that you'll need to sell your house in Stars Hollow. You can make arrangements for that when you meet with the agent. She'll get you an excellent price."

The rush of pressure behind Lorelai's eyes is so sudden that she can barely keep them open long enough to say, "We'll let you know what our plans are once we've _talked_ about them. I'm…uh…I'm going to get a refill." She gestures vaguely toward the bar and slips away.

She doesn't actually want another drink, but she goes to the bar anyway, using the time that it takes the bartender to mix her martini as a reprieve – a chance to breathe and make sense of Francine's - of _Christopher's_ - assumptions.

Pain pounds through her head as she casts her eyes around the room, suddenly knowing she's looking at a possible future. She watches women in cocktail dresses and men in suits, making small talk over their drinks, sharing gossip about charity functions and society weddings. She can't remember why she's here, what she, Lorelai Gilmore, is doing here, in this world, searching the crowd for her very own properly dressed spouse.

She used to be able to picture her future, bring up images of family, work, and home. It feels like a long time, though, since she's been able to look forward at all, or even had the desire to wonder what the future looks like. Now, with this forced glimpse, she can see with sudden clarity that this isn't it, and the realization makes her tired. Tired of living someone else's life, of being slowly pulled away from the place she's called home.

All at once, the crush of conversation in the room feels oppressive, like the pain in her head, and she wants more than anything to be out of here. To go back to the quiet of her house in the quiet of her town and figure out what she's doing with herself.

Christopher's across the room, his tie neatly tied and his suit expertly pressed. By the time she crosses to speak to him he's picked up something in her body language that makes the corners of his eyes tighten warily when she says, "I'm leaving."

"Are you okay? Let me take you home."

She hears the word 'home' with a sting behind her eyes, knowing he's referring to his condo, but she desperately wants to go back to the place she's always called home. "I have my car," she reminds him.

"Well, I'll meet you back there then."

She wonders if he's being deliberately obtuse, or if he's really come to think of Hartford as their new home; either way the assumption makes her queasy. They haven't had a chance to discuss everything yet. The night of their return they'd arrived late at her place and crashed there, but since then, with the events in Hartford, they've stayed at the condo. They haven't talked about long-term plans yet, and if she's honest with herself she's been avoiding it.

He's done everything he can to make her comfortable at his place: bought her favorite foods, supplied her with the most luxurious toiletries, and even stocked up on Paul Anka's necessities. She'd wanted to resist making herself at home in his condo, and at the same time had been reluctant to fully open up her own home to him. It's just one of the little dilemmas that's been nagging at her subconscious and having him make the decision for them only highlights how wrong it feels.

She takes a deep breath and says, "I'm going _home_." He looks at her as if he's confused and she adds, "To Stars Hollow."

Her words are sharp and it stills him for a moment. He watches, evaluating, before asking, "What's going on, Lor? Are you upset about something?"

"Did you tell your mother we were moving? Without even asking me?" she asks slowly. His gaze flickers away guiltily and she groans, "Christopher…"

"Look," he starts, then glances around, as if just now remembering that they're in the middle of a party. Gesturing with a tip of his head, he leads her into a quiet room, his fingers barely brushing her shoulder as he opens the door and ushers her inside. "Look," he says again, "it just came up in conversation, and she asked." He shrugs. "I mean, she's probably right, about us needing a bigger place."

"What? Because we need to _entertain_?"

He nods lamely. "Well, yeah. Don't we?"

It's so matter-of-fact, his response, and she just shakes her head. He's so sure about what their future includes, and so sure about what it doesn't include. She bites back a sarcastic remark about the likelihood of her planning cocktail parties and says evenly, "Did you also make arrangements to sell my house?"

He looks at her and lets out a long sigh, "Lorelai, we'll have to sell the house at some point."

Her voice is hard when she responds. "_We_ can't sell the house, because _we_ didn't spend ten years saving every penny that didn't go to food or clothing in order to buy it."

"Okay, fine," he says, his tone conciliatory. "Don't sell it. I mean, I guess you could rent it or something."

"You aren't even considering the possibility of living there?" She retorts angrily. While she's not sure how she feels about the idea herself, his outright dismissal is infuriating.

He looks at her in disbelief. "Do you seriously expect us to live in Stars Hollow? I mean…" His voice trails off, a flash of uncertainty crossing his face. She wonders then if it's the familial obligation driving his thought process, or if there's more to it – if he's reluctant to live in her town, so close to her ex-fiance.

The thought stops her for a moment, but then she looks up to see his face set in firm resolve, and snaps back, "Do you really expect me to live in Hartford and throw dinner parties?"

They just stare at each other, her heart pounding with frustration, his expression growing nervous, and she realizes that's exactly what he'd thought.

When she speaks again, her voice has softened, "I just can't believe you assumed all of this without talking to me. Would it really be so horrible to live in Stars Hollow? Rory grew up there. Hell, I practically grew up there."

He speaks gently, but his tone is patronizing "Come on, Lor. Your house is too small for us."

She winces at the rejection and retorts defensively before she can think through what she's saying, "It's big enough. Gigi could sleep in Rory's room. I mean, I know Rory still comes home, but…."

"There's not room for the nanny," he says, patiently making his case.

The incongruous image of a nanny in her home hits her with a jolt that feels oddly invasive. Unable to put words to her irritation, she takes a different tack, "My job – The Dragonfly is in Stars Hollow. That's a long drive every day."

"There's no reason you have to keep working," he says, then off her look of shock, he goes on, "I mean, if you really wanted to work, I'm sure there are inns near Hartford where you could work, or, hell, I could buy you an inn. I never did get a chance to buy you a castle." He says it like a joke, maybe even means it as a joke, but there's enough truth in his offer that she realizes that he simply doesn't get it.

Everything in Christopher's life has been accidental. Even his fatherhood. He doesn't understand what it means to work toward something, to build something from the ground up. He doesn't have the first idea what it means to turn your dreams into reality.

She stares at him for a long moment before she responds, her voice low and steady, "I don't want another job. I don't want another inn. The Dragonfly is _my_ inn."

It's then that he seems to realize that he's said something wrong and he backpedals, saying, "Of course. I know that," but there's a touch of impatience that makes it clear he doesn't _really_ understand. "We'll figure something out."

Giving her a questioning look, he reaches a hand for her elbow, but she resists his attempt to draw her closer. She holds his gaze and says firmly, "I don't want to leave Stars Hollow." Even as she says the words, they cement themselves in her head as the truth and she can hear in her voice that it's not just about where she wants to live. It's a rejection of the new life she's being offered. She sees fear and hopelessness wash over his face and it's like watching the drop of the proverbial shoe, like a part of him has expected this all along.

She gives a long sigh, and says softly, "I can't talk about this anymore right now. I'm going to go."

The door is open and she's halfway through it by the time he's recovered enough to say hopefully, "I'll…uh…I'll call you tomorrow."

She hears his words, but doesn't look back, instead scanning the room for the hostess so she can extract herself from this function as quickly as possible. Finding the particular carefully coiffed head among all of the other carefully coiffed heads, she makes her apologies, feigning jetlag and illness.

Halfway to the front door, she's stopped by Emily, who seems to have her 'escaping-daughter' radar tuned especially precisely tonight.

"Where are you going?" Emily asks suspiciously.

"I'm going home."

"Home?" Emily asks, as if it's the most ridiculous idea she's ever heard. "You can't leave. They haven't even brought out dinner yet."

"I know," Lorelai says, "but I'm, uh…not feeling well."

Her mother looks her over carefully, then proclaims, "You're not sick."

Lorelai sighs wearily, "I've got to go, Mom."

"What's going on, Lorelai?"

She starts to protest that there's nothing, just a touch of jetlag, but her mother's eyes have seen beyond that excuse and are demanding an explanation.

"I don't know," Lorelai says quietly and she sees the sharpness around her mother's eyes soften ever so slightly. "But I just can't do this anymore, Mom. I just can't."

She watches her mother realize that she's not just talking about this one night, and she thinks that she sees a flicker of resignation before her mother snaps, "Lorelai, do you have any idea-"

"I do, Mom," Lorelai cuts in, her voice firm, but understanding. "You're probably not going to believe this, but I really do appreciate all you've done to welcome me back to the fold. I do. I just…this isn't my fold."

"Lorelai, really. This isn't the time. Why do you always have to play your dramatic games in the middle of an event? Is it simply impossible for you to just enjoy a party?"

The words are her mother's, right down to every proper syllable, but right there with the annoyance and arrogance, there's a knowing tremorin Emily's voice and it makes Lorelai wonder how long she's been able to see what Lorelai herself has been overlooking for weeks. At the same time, however, she knows that she's got to play the game, that she's got to play the disobedient daughter one more time. The difference is that this time she actually feels a little regret. Not for the realization, or the decision, but for the fact that this time she's drawn them into her charade, that this mess is of her own making.

She tilts her head to the side sadly, "I don't know, Mom. I don't know why I can't do this, be happy with this." She gestures around her at the open bar, the string quartet, and the carving station that's being rolled out. "It's so unfair that you and Dad, who love this, ended up with me, but there it is. I'm sorry. I really am, but Mom, this isn't me, none of this is my life."

"Very well," Emily responds with disdain, playing out her part in the never-ending 'Lorelai is a disappointment' story. "I assume that you'll be taking Christopher with you?"

It's a question, but it's not the question Emily's really asking. It's Emily wanting to know how far her rejection extends. Lorelai sighs again. "We drove separately," she starts, watching her mother's eyes narrow predictably, "but we talked. He knows I'm leaving."

She swears she sees Emily's face pale slightly under the expertly applied makeup, but her mother says shortly, "Good night, then," before turning on her heel and walking away.

Lorelai watches her for a moment, then slips quietly out of the house.By the time she's driven back to Stars Hollow and installed herself on the sofa next to Paul Anka, the stabbing pains behind her eyes are intermittent and the buzzing in her ears has dulled enough that she can hear the hum again. She feels almost like herself again.

Though her conversation with Christopher had ended without a verbalized decision, she knows that they both had understood the significance of the words they'd exchanged. Even so, he calls the next day with apologies and promises to talk, along with plans for a romantic evening. She balks and the call ends with both of them frustrated.

She's not sure what possesses him to appear a few hours later to pick her up for the appointments with the realtor, but it instigates the first of several arguments they are to have over the next week. They fight about everything: their future, their past, their expectations, their disappointments and finally, their impossibility.

When she sees him for the final time and tells him that it's over, that he's not the person she wants to be with, he protests, but weakly enough to make her believe he's seen this coming. She listens to his pleas, and is tempted to push him – to ask him what he truly sees when he looks into their future. To get him to see that she's as ill-suited to his full-grown adult self as he is to hers. But instead, her guilty conscious lets him rail against the unfairness of it all, lets him be angry and hurt. She thinks it's the least she can do, after the rollercoaster she's put him through.

That night, when she returns home with the box of her belongings that had migrated to Christopher's place, she looks forward to a long sleep to soothe her exhaustion and clear her head.

When sunlight streams into the window in the morning, her head is still humming. Over the next few days, she endures the disappointment in her parents' eyes when she tells them of her decision. She puts up with Sookie's 'I told you so' lecture disguised as sympathetic words.

Worst of all, she makes a heartfelt apology to her daughter, for stirring up long-lost hopes of family, for dragging Rory with her through her own horrendous mistakes. Though she doesn't deserve the understanding and comfort her daughter gives her, she does appreciate it.

Days later, even planning two business lunches and a rehearsal dinner have not successfully distracted her from the background dissonance. She'd thought it was a signal that she was taking her life in the wrong direction, that she needed to change course. And yet, here she is, once again in the rubble of a relationship, with only a dull headache to show for it.

Sorting out and dealing with the mistakes she's made has only exposed the pain at the base of everything – missing the man she knows she still loves. It's a helpless feeling, to know that she's still held captive by her feelings for him, when he'd unceremoniously dismissed those feelings so many months ago.

Without her pretend life to distract her, moments from her relationship with Luke run through her mind over and over. The conversation in the frozen food aisle of the grocery store plays in such vivid, excruciating detail that she almost welcomes the stabs of pain that come with it. It's that memory more than any other that nags at her, bringing with it so much regret for the way she'd let him write off everything that they've been to each other. It's that memory that makes her think that maybe there is one more wrong that she has the power to right.

And because those words have been such a tangible presence for the last few days, by the time she walks into the diner, her determination makes her almost forget how long it's been since she's really talked to him.

He looks up when she enters and she can see his eyes widen and jaw go slack. He recovers quickly though, his features carefully neutral before she reaches the counter. In her impatience and nervousness, the words come out quick and sharp. "I need to talk to you."

He bristles. "I'm working."

She looks around at the two tables finishing their food, saying, "Can Caesar handle it for a minute?" Luke looks like he's about to protest when she cuts in. "Please?" she asks, her voice softening.

"Fine," he says reluctantly. "Storeroom."

When they're safely inside with the door closed, he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at her. "Go ahead. Talk."

She recognizes the defensiveness of his posture, and she thinks that she can feel the hurt it's hiding, but the fact of him standing there in front of her chases away all of the words she'd carefully constructed. She doesn't mean to start by saying, "There's a hum in my head."

"What?"

She spreads her hands out on either side of her head. "My head is humming and there are these pains behind my eyes," she says, pointing with her finger as if to demonstrate.

"You came here….pulled me away from customers, to tell me that you have a headache?" he asks, incredulous.

"No, that's not why." She stumbles over the words, understanding his impatience, understanding his confusion at her presence in his diner. "I mean, I do, and it's been there …I don't know… for a while now…"

"Lorelai," he sighs, "is there a point to this?"

She looks over at him for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking. "I'm trying to find my life again, to fix the things that are wrong."

"What are you-"

"Wait, let me finish. I'm not sure I'm going to say it all right, but let me finish. Please?"

His expression softens and he tips his head in assent.

"I'm not sure when I started thinking that other people knew me better than I did, when I let other people run my life." She draws her arms out wide beside her, then lets them fall in a defeated shrug. "I let Rory make me think I was a horrible mother. I let you make me think that I wasn't worth marrying. I let Christopher tell me that we belong together, and I let my parents turn me into the daughter I never was."

Luke drops his hands and presses one fist into the other hand. His breathing has quickened and his voice is rough. "What makes you think I want to hear this?"

She goes on, as if he hasn't spoken, on a roll now that she's finally getting it out. "But worst of all, I let you make me think that what we had didn't mean anything. I let you say that, and even though I knew it wasn't true, I let you say it and I walked away without telling you that you were wrong."

She hears a sharp intake of breath, which he covers with questions, "What are you…? Why?"

"I just don't know how I got to be that person, that woman who doesn't listen to her own heart, and her own mind. Who let you cast her aside without saying anything. Maybe I've spent so long thinking I wouldn't have it all that when it looked like I might, I was willing to give up even myself to make sure I kept it." She drops her gaze to the floor and shakes her head, then throws up her arms in defeat. "I don't know, Luke, but it destroyed us. And I almost let it destroy me.

"But I'm done with that now. Maybe I've screwed up my whole life past the point of fixing, but at least when I go to sleep tonight, I'm not going to be pretending anymore."

He lifts his head from where he's been staring at his hands, and she can see anguish in his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

She lets out a long sigh and shrugs. "I can't fix what went wrong with us. I can't change what happened, but I couldn't let you keep thinking that."

"Thinking what?"

"You told me that we weren't meant to be, that you're just the guy who pours my coffee, that I belonged with someone like Christopher. But you were wrong and I just needed to tell you that." She pauses to take a breath before continuing. "It's been too long and too much has happened so I'm sure I'm no longer the woman you're supposed to be with," she stops, her voice catching, "and maybe I never was, but you _are_ the man _I'm_ supposed to be with. It's never been just about the coffee. I'm sorry I let you tell yourself otherwise."

"What do you want from me?" Luke asks, his voice strained. "You just come in here …I mean, you got _married_, and now it's over and you're here? What do you want from me?" he repeats.

Lorelai crosses her arms over her belly and looks down at her shuffling feet, feeling suddenly selfish in her need for honesty. "I'm sorry," she says, then looks up to meet his eyes. "You're right, this isn't fair. I'm sorry. I'll just go." She gestures toward the door and starts to leave.

She's stopped by his voice. "Lorelai, wait. I didn't mean…" he hesitates. "I just don't know why you're here."

She turns back, smiling sadly. "I'm not asking for anything, not expecting anything. I've just been figuring out all the mistakes I've made and it was important to me that I didn't let you go on thinking that you meant so little to me. And you're right, that's probably not fair. I'm sorry about that. I'm just trying to make things right. Trying," she scrunches her face and brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose, "to make the buzzing go away." She looks up at him. "But, I'm sorry for interrupting. I'll let you get back to your regularly scheduled life now."

She ducks her head as she turns and reaches for the door. Glancing back briefly, she says, "Thanks for, uh, listening."

Luke just nods, looking stunned as she turns back and walks out through the diner. As she walks home, she can already feel the fog lifting from her brain, feel the clarity returning.

_Fin_


End file.
